Little Lies
by Alexandra-bookaholic
Summary: Christian Ozera is part of the ancient royal Moroi society. That aside, his family has a dark past and that very past casts shadows on his life. Having a dark past of course causes trouble since he goes to St. Vladimir's, the elite school for all Moroi and Dhampirs. And what happens when he meets the one and only Vasilisa Dragomir? The story is set during the first book.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Hi guys! This is my first fanfic for Vampire Academy. I really love Christian Ozera, which is why this story will be from his point of view. It won't exactly follow the story line of the books, but I think it will be interesting anyway. I really hope you give it a chance and I guess there's nothing more left to say than -enjoy!**

Chapter 1

The moonlight seeping through the dimmed window cast shadows across the old wooden floor. Honestly I was quite surprised it was still holding; all these dusty boxes full of books must have weighed a ton. I sat cross legged on the floor. It was a beautiful night. The moon was shining high in the sky and there was not a cloud to be seen in the dark starry sky. It was ironic really, the weather was displaying a complete contradiction to what was going on in my head. I wasn't really sad, just comically tired with the everyday routines of St. Vladimir's. Everything was just too peachy and perfect, it made me want to retreat to the darkest and quietest place I could find. Now that I think of it, this situation was actually goddamn hilarious; a vampire lurking in the dark. Ha-ha, right? If only the dark hadn't been the attic of a church, then maybe the situation would have had some comical value.

Now, usually I could take everything St. Vladimir's had to throw at me, but today was just a real pain in the ass. The royal society –that I unfortunately was a part of- had gone mad on gossip. It was like a drug to them. You see, today was _the day_. And by that I mean it was the day that the infamous princess Vasilisa Dragomir returned to St. Vladimir's. I'd never met her back before she ran away, but I'd seen her and I'd heard rumors. After all rumors were the very thing this school lived on. What I had heard about her seemed typical for a royal princess; self centered party girl with a drinking problem. Some even said she cut herself. I wouldn't blame the poor girl. In my humble opinion she'd gone through enough shit in her life to justify some crazy behavior. Losing your family in a car accident qualified as a traumatic event, even in my book. But you shouldn't believe everything you hear, especially here at St. Vladimir's, so I guess I'd have to give her the benefit of doubt. I'd certainly suffered my way through some rumors of my own so it only seemed fair. If I didn't, I'd feel like a hypocrite and if there was one thing I prided myself on, it was that I wasn't a hypocrite.

I looked at my watch; it was ten to two…AM. Well, time goes by fast when you're stuck inside your head debating whether to hate the golden girl or to give her a chance. My second to last class of the day was starting in ten minutes. I felt like skipping it, but then again I was hoping I might hear something about the elusive princess. Now, I wasn't a big fan of rumors, but it was always useful to know what was happening, to keep up with current events. If you didn't, you'd probably get eaten alive.

As I walked out of the chapel, I found the air to be chilly. It was mid autumn and I was already waiting for the Montana snow to cover the ground. I liked everything being white, like a real winter wonder land. I hated the cold though. I guess you just can't have everything. It was such a shame that our school ran on a nocturnal schedule. I liked the sun, even though it wasn't really considered healthy for Moroi, but it was nice to see things in daylight.

The campus was buzzing with life. People, Moroi and Dhampir, were shuffling around, all trying to get to classes or; skip classes. I made my way through the courtyard and into the main building where all the classes were held. I couldn't believe I was doing this. I was pretty sure that due to all my skipping class I wasn't even going to pass Slavic Art, so I might as well have just skipped this class among the others, but my curiosity got the best of me. I walked into class and got a surprised look from Mrs. Reed. She raised her glasses a bit and the squinted her eyes to make sure it was really me.

"Mr. Ozera," She said with a lazy voice. "How nice of you to join us." She frowned at me and beckoned me to my seat. I sat in the back row, I liked to see who was in class with me and the best way to do that was to sit in the back. Also this way I didn't have to pretend to be too interested in what Mrs. Reed was talking about.

People shuffled into class and a steady amount of whispers and random laughter filled the room. In the corner of my eye I saw Mrs. Reed tap her foot on the floor impatiently. She wore red ballerinas, perhaps a strange choice for a woman her age, but then again she was quirky to say the least. She was a Moroi in her forties. She always wore her sand colored hair with red streaks in a loose bun, letting strands of hair escape to frame her oval face. She always wore colorful clothing and humongous earrings of different shapes and forms. And she had this pointy nose she would crinkle if something she didn't like happened. I guess she could have looked pretty if it hadn't been for the horrid frown that was ever-present on her face. It really just made her look like a harpy. Yeah, a harpy, that's right. I smiled to myself and shook my head.

"Hello," I heard a voice say next to me. I looked up to the seat next to me and felt a little gasp of air leave my lungs. So, I had hoped for rumors from this class, but it seemed I had gotten something better –the princess herself.

"I didn't mean to intrude; I was just wondering if I could have this seat?" She said with a fairly distracting accent covering her rich voice.

I looked at her, feeling puzzled. Why would the infamous Vasilisa Dragomir want to sit next to me? This was practically outrageous in royal standards. It was basically in their genes to discriminate me for my family name. _Note to self: Perks of being and Ozera, number one; I don't have to deal with royal bullshit._ Baffled as I was, I looked around to see what others were doing and how they were reacting to this _'scandal'_. As I looked around I noticed that all the other seats had already been taken. Well I'll be damned; I never would have thought people actually liked Slavic Art.

"Please, have a seat," I said, trying to muster some kind of politeness in my voice. It didn't really come naturally to me.

"Thank you," she said and sat down in one graceful movement. Not that I was looking. We sat there cradled in silence, like suddenly there was a bubble around us. I thought it was just my imagination, but as I snapped out of my thoughts I noticed everyone staring at us. It was unnerving, I hated it. Vasilisa didn't even flinch; I guess she was used to people staring at her. That did come with being the last of her bloodline after all. Instead of saying anything she flipped her hair over her shoulder and raised her chin. Bold. Like a lamb facing the slaughter house without a shred of fear clinging to her.

"Alright now," Mrs. Reed said. She clapped her hands together in an expectant manner. "Let's get started then!"

Gradually people began to mind their own business, or at least they didn't out right stare. Which was saying a lot considering most of them believed staring at people like they were animals at the zoo was their birth right.

The class flowed in its course. Boring pictures of paintings were shown on the screen in front of class. We wrote notes. I doodled on the corners of my notebook. The class was beginning to seem irritatingly uneventful. The bright florescent lights made me want to close my eyes and frankly, if I weren't afraid of Mrs. Reed smacking me with a ruler, I'd gladly take a nap. Unfortunately I wouldn't put the ruler incident past her, so I fought to keep my eyes open.

I looked to my left. I wanted to see what Vasilisa was doing. Secretly I hoped she would look as bored as I felt, but instead I saw her hunched over her notebook, feverishly writing down notes, even some that Mrs. Reed didn't have on her slideshow. Who knew, princess Dragomir had a thing for arts. I smiled to myself. She looked so absorbed in her work; I couldn't remember seeing someone so concentrated in a long time…Except perhaps me when I tried to use my fire magic to make Jesse Zeklos burst into flames. Needless to say I didn't succeed in that mission. Still, there was something about the look on her face that made me feel good about giving her the benefit of doubt. It was something that made me wish I was that social type of guy, who could just seem nice and easy to talk to.

"Is there something wrong?" I heard Vasilisa ask me. She wore an easy smile on her face, a face that was framed by platinum blond locks falling down in light curls. She looked up at me from her notebook and arched her eyebrow as if she was challenging me to answer honestly. So I did. "Nothing is wrong; I just can't believe you're actually interested in this stuff."

"Why wouldn't I be?" She asked me, seeming truly surprised. A few little lines of worry appeared on her forehead and I, for some reason felt immensely guilty. It made no sense. I couldn't help it if she was confused. Still…

"Well…" I said, trying out a nervous smile. "It's a bit boring."

"You think art is boring?" She asked, no she demanded an answer and I couldn't help but give it to her right away.

"Yes, but maybe I don't get it," I said trying to defend my lack of interest.

I could sense her green eyes piercing my soul, searching for something. It was an odd feeling of someone invading my privacy, but I couldn't break the illusion I was so caught up in. For a moment there was nothing in the world but her green eyes. I wasn't even sure if I liked green eyes. And just like that the illusion was shattered and she gave me another smile. "Maybe you should give the arts a chance, you never know, you might like them after all."

"Wise words," I sighed.

She gave me a curious look, then tilted her head and pursed her lips, as if she was trying to decide weather not to say something.

"What is it?" I whispered, because Mrs. Reed was giving me the evil eye.

"I just…" She shook her head. "I feel like I know you from somewhere, but I can't remember your name. I'm terribly sorry."

Oh great, she didn't remember my name. So she didn't know who I was. That must be the reason she actually dared to sit next to me. God she would be mortified when she found out about who I was. Sitting next to the black sheep of the royal society, way to make a comeback princess Dragomir.

"It's okay; before you…left we only had three classes together. In case you're wondering that comes to an equal of nine hours together in the same room every week." I said rolling my eyes.

Her face fell; she looked down at her hands and pulled at her sleeves. "God, I'm sorry. I didn't really pay attention to anything back then."

"Well I can't argue against that," I said.

"Was I mean to you?" She asked me in a surprisingly fragile voice.

I grinned at her for no apparent reason. "Not really mean, you just didn't know I existed. But that's okay, that's how everyone treats me."

"That sounds awful," She said and looked down at her hands again. Why did she keep doing that?

"Would you tell me your name, please?" She asked, now looking at me.

I tried to avoid her eyes. I actually took a look at the painting on the screen. It was dark and gloomy, a mess of blue and black. "I'm Christian Ozera."

I dared to take a look at her. She seemed surprised, but then she visibly relaxed. It was quick. I could almost tell myself that I'd just imagined the shock on her face. Luckily I didn't have the habit of lying to myself.

"I should have known," she said and leaned against the desk with one hand.

"Yes, of course you should have. You should always be able to recognize a creature of evil," I said and looked down at my notebook.

She rolled her eyes. "I see what you are referring to, but I don't think you're a creature of evil…although saying that art is boring should be counted as a terrible monstrous act, but perhaps I can look past that."

"Yes, well I suggest you don't. I wouldn't want you to get the wrong impression of me. You do know what they say about first impressions," I said and pondered her words in my head. Was she just saying that because she didn't want to make this class anymore awkward than it already was or did she actually mean it. Could she be giving me the benefit of doubt?

The rest of the class we sat in silence, she writing notes like a good student and me doodling pictures of random stuff on my notebook. At last the bell rang and I could practically taste freedom, but then Mrs. Reed called my name. "Shit," I swore under my breath.

"Yes Mrs. Reed," I replied with my fake polite voice reserved especially for teachers I didn't like, which in case you were wondering was most of them.

"You have missed more than half of your classes," She stated.

"And?" I asked. "I'm not planning on an art career."

"Yes, God save us all if you were, but I can't possibly pass you with this little attendance…unless you of course do an extra project."

"And let me guess, that extra project will be a wide ranged essay about stuff I have no idea about," I asked. God I hated this.

"I'm not a monster, if you can come up with an acceptable topic for an essay by the next class, I'll let that count for your project." Mrs. Reed rolled her eyes at me.

"You mean the essay or the topic, which one actually counts as the project, because actually just coming up with a topic is awfully hard work…"

"Don't push it Mr. Ozera," Mrs. Reed snapped and dismissed me.

"Always a pleasure," I whispered under my breath.

I walked away as fast as I could and practically slammed the classroom door as I stepped out into the dimly lit corridor.

I was about to stalk away, maybe lock myself in my room and mope a bit until I felt a tiny hand grab my arm.

"Jesus you scared me!" I exclaimed.

Vasilisa Dragomir clung to my arm. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to scare you." She looked up at me with those infuriatingly green eyes and bit her lip. She hesitated for a bit. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry for the way I've treated you in the past. And I realize me saying sorry doesn't make up for anything, but I'm trying and that's all I can do right now."

"What the hell happened to you, you seem all guilty and stuff, it doesn't suit your royal status," I said.

She let go of my arm and looked a bit hurt. "Well it's hard not to reconsider your past choices when you've been left all alone."

Now I guess it was my turn to feel a pang of guilt. I honestly had to remember I didn't have a monopoly on pain and suffering. I guess when it came to losing people she deserved some credit as well.

"Well, it's better late than never, right?" I tried to make her feel better, which incidentally was not my expertise.

"Right," she said and pulled at her sleeve again.

Suddenly I got the most amazing idea. "You know…if I told you there was something you could do to redeem yourself in my eyes, would you consider doing it?" It was a long shot, but I really hated arts.

"I guess it depends on what it is I could do," she said and flipped her hair back again.

"Arts, I need help with arts," I said, feeling the need to clarify my suggestion.

"I know," she said and gave me a grin before turning around. "I need to go see the guidance councilor but we'll talk later."

**AN: So? I would really like it if you told me what you thought about the first chapter. I'm really excited about this story, so I hope you liked it! I really appreciate reviews and they do make my day so if you have the chance, please do review! All feedback is appreciated!**

**Love Always, Alexandra!**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: HI! So this is Chapter two, I really hope you enjoyed Chapter one. Anyways, get ready to meet Rose and some other people and most importantly, get ready to see things the Christian Ozera way :D**

Chapter 2.

_All Characters belong to Richelle Mead; I own nothing except my imagination_

As I lay on my bed staring at the white plaster ceiling, I couldn't help but contemplate the most interesting Slavic Art class I'd had in ages. Of course the art wasn't the thing that had intrigued my mind. No, what had truly peaked my interest had been the blond creature sitting next to me. For some reason I couldn't erase Vasilisa Dragomir from my mind. Perhaps I was just a slave of my curiosity as every other student here, but as hard as I tried I couldn't erase the image of jade green eyes studying me. This was insufferable. I wasn't used to thinking of other people, never mind girls. I had long ago accepted the fact that I was an Ozera, to be clearer I was Christian Ozera, the weird kid whose parents had turned Strigoi. The taint of the dark act my parents committed still lingered around my name and people tended to avoid me at all costs. So let's just put it this way, I didn't exactly have people lining up to be my lab partner. Still the Dragomir princess had talked to me, which was surprising considering that she was a major royal. Like, she was the royal of all royals, if we didn't count the queen herself. She was the single heir to her bloodline and thus very well known. I wasn't exactly sure what she was doing talking to me let alone apologizing to me. Then again I wasn't sure about her at all. To be fair, everything I knew about her was just hear say. I'd never actually talked to her face to face before, so maybe she wasn't a total bitch. I mean, I sure knew things people said about me didn't have the faintest truth in them so maybe the things people said about her weren't true. Well, there was only one way to find out. She did say we would talk later, right?

Oh God, I needed to stop thinking about this. This was ridiculous. I felt like I was stuck in some bad teen movie. I was the depressed emo kid desperately trying to get the Queen Bee to notice me. How…sad. This was the exact thing that every cell in my body generally went against. I generally tried so hard to go against socializing with people, that even thinking about the prospect of having to try and make an effort made me sigh audibly.

I pushed my, oh so charming thoughts out of my head and grabbed my copy of The Catcher in the Rye from my bedside table and opened the book. Reading was my way of escaping the grim reality, although it was hardly fair to say that anything about Vasilisa Dragomir was grim. The book was so worn out that I had no trouble finding the spot I had reached the last time I read it. It was an odd thing; I'd never actually finished the book. I'd read the beginning and the middle numerous times, as lame as it was I could probably recite the entire book by memory, but I always stopped reading as the last twenty pages neared. Call me ridiculous, but something about endings seemed so daunting to me. Perhaps I just wasn't ready to face the end of Holden Caulfield.

The next morning, or night, I woke up to my alarm clock making an ungodly sound. I slapped the blasted thing and it piped down. I opened my eyes reluctantly and blinked a couple times. I switched the lights on and adjusted my eyes to the sudden brightness. I slowly stretched my limbs and crawled out of bed. Somewhat robotically I moved to my washroom and took a look in the mirror.

"Shit," I muttered under my breath. I traced my index finger along my pale cheek. I had apparently fallen asleep on my book and now I had a red mark on my face to show for it. It actually happened to me often enough to make me wish I owned some make-up powder. There, I said it.

I ran a hand through my dark hair and decided I should probably take a shower, both to wake me up and to make me seem half presentable.

I stepped under the hot water and closed my eyes. I knew I had about half an hour to go before breakfast started and I was expected to show up. Even though I wasn't exactly hot stuff among the royals, I had some friends among the not so stuck up Moroi. I just stood under the water for a while; letting the hot liquid relax all my muscles and bring me to peace with the fact that I had to leave soon. Eventually I washed up and turned the water off. Stepping out of the shower onto the cold paneled floor should be illegal. It was one of the most unholy sensations I could think of. After wrapping a towel around me I quickly scurried to my room and picked out some clothes. I opted for a plain black dress shirt and some jeans, call it typical me, I call it decent.

By the time I walked into the cafeteria it was mostly full. There was a considerable amount of excitement in the air. I could hear some of the Dhampirs talking about something excitedly making exaggerated gestures with their hands and then dissolving into silent laughter. I just kept walking until I reached my table. My friends, god that sounded weird, but yes my friends were already occupying the seats along the table.

"Good morning," Sarah, a Moroi with honey colored hair and elfin stature said. "You look terrible," She decided to add and shot me an over sweet smile.

"You look like shit too," I said and sat down opposite of her. She playfully kicked my shin and grinned at me.

Mark, the ridiculously friendly and curly haired friend of ours decided to join the conversation and put down his physics book. "I heard you went to Slavic Art yesterday." He raised his chin and gave me a curious look. "Were you in a masochistic mood?"

"I must have been. Mrs. Reed gave me an assignment to do. If I don't do it I won't pass the class."

Sarah pushed a plate full of fresh fruit towards me and I gladly took it. The thing about getting up late was that you'd have to wait in line for breakfast. Luckily Sarah was a creature of unnatural habits; she got up way too early in my opinion and always got Mark and me breakfast. Most people would say that she is just kind, but I prefer to think that she is extremely cunning. I mean, imagine if one morning she decided to sleep in and didn't get us breakfast…we'd be completely screwed. It was only fair to say that Mark and I had grown to rely on Sarah; luckily enough she seemed to be glad to be needed.

"So what's the assignment on?" Sarah asked, eating a spoonful of porridge.

Mark gave her a disgusted look. "I can't believe you eat that stuff…It looks like grey mud."

"Hey, it beats your Lucky Charms any day," Sarah snapped and licked her spoon. Mark just rolled her eyes.

"I don't know what it's about yet," I said.

"Huh? What's what about?" Sarah asked me, raising her eyes to meet mine.

"My assignment, you just asked me about it," I said, feeling utterly ignored. I was used to it though, Sarah was very easily distracted. Mostly it was hilarious, but today I could've actually used some advice.

"Oh yeah, but that was before Mark insulted my choice of breakfast," She said with a defensive look on her face.

"Well, yes, God forbid someone call your porridge grey mud." I sighed and impaled a piece of pineapple with my fork.

"You tell him Ozera," Sarah said with a glint of success shining in her hazel eyes.

"So what _is_ your assignment on?" Mark asked, now actually putting his physics book in his backpack.

"As I said, I don't know yet. Mrs. Reed gave me up until tomorrow to come up with an acceptable subject."

"That's not too bad," Sarah said and put her spoon down. "How about you pick some artist and just like do a portfolio or something."

"Yeah, I guess I could," I said and tapped my finger against the table.

"I could help you," she said with a friendly smile plastered across her round face.

"Yeah, about that, I think I already have all the help I need," I said.

This seemed to interest Mark. "Who dares to socialize with Christian Ozera?"

"Well…this is gonna sound weird but…"

"Spit it out!" Sarah demanded, her eyes gleaming with curiosity.

"Vasilisa Dragomir," I said. As soon as the name exited my lips I had two baffled Moroi staring at me.  
"Yeah, yeah, I know. It's creepy," I said. "But she seems to be good at it so I might as well accept the help. God knows I need it."

"Vasilisa?" Sarah asked.

"Dragomir?" Mark continued.

"Yes," I answered.

"But she's…" Sarah began.

"Royal, with a capital R," Mark agreed.

"I'm royal too," I defended.

"Well…yeah, but you're not like the rest of them," Mark said.

"And she definitely is," Sarah said and crinkled her nose. "I mean can you believe her? She ran away from St. Vladimir's with that Dhampir girl. She must be out of her fucking mind."

"Well, I'm giving her the benefit of doubt," I said to quiet them down.

Instead Mark sighed audibly. "I don't mean this in a bad way, but I don't think it matters weather you give _her_ the benefit of doubt, because I know that they won't give _you_ the benefit of doubt. They haven't so far."

"_She_ offered _me _her help. What do you want me to do? Tell her to fuck off?" I was getting agitated. I knew I shouldn't have brought up the matter with them.

"Well it's better to do it before she gets the chance to do it to you," Sarah stated.

"You're being a bit cynical aren't you?" I asked.

"Says Christian Ozera." Sarah challenged me with her eyes. "You know I'm only looking out for you Ozera, even if she for some reason wasn't a complete asshole, the rest of them still are."

"She speaks the truth," Mark said and the two dissolved into laughter again. I guess it was some sort of inside joke. I munched on my fruit and stared blankly at the bright orange wall, that didn't suit the décor of the school at all, situated at the back of the cafeteria. Well, this was just a wonderfully pleasant morning…not.

I knew I should have gotten something else to eat besides the food, but I had been in such a hurry to get rid of Sarah and Mark and their _'Let's not give anyone the benefit of doubt'_ way of life. Why couldn't they see that I was actually trying to be polite and considerate?

I was seated in my math class. I rather liked math. It was simple and there was a formula for everything. I would have rather done two million math exercises than a simple essay on Slavic Art. Luckily the class drifted by fast enough and I was free to make my way to my next class. What a joy.

As I stepped into the English class something strange caught my eye. Mason Ashford, a Dhampir with red hair and an irritatingly cheery outlook to life was sitting in my place. Next to him sat another Dhampir, a girl I faintly seemed to remember. I squinted my eyes and frowned. I walked right up to them at the back of the class and put on my politest smile. "Excuse me, but I think you're sitting in my seat," I said.

The girl whipped her head around and exposed a slightly amused face framed with long dark wavy hair. "_Your _seat?" She asked and looked around a bit.

"Yes," I answered simply.

"Well, I don't see your name on it," she said, a wide content smile spreading across her face.

"Ouch, Rose, give the poor guy some slack," Ashford chimed next to her. This only made the Dhampir girl, apparently named Rose, and Mason to laugh out loud.

It was hard to interrupt their laughter. Something about it was rather infectious, still annoying though. "Then perhaps you haven't looked close enough," I said raising my voice.

They stopped laughing. Rose gave me a questioning look, but I just pointed at the left corner of the desk in front of her. She crinkled her dark eyes and moved closer to the edge of the table. "Christian…Ozera," she said, drawing the name out and then looking at me with eyes full of disbelief. "Dude, you actually wrote your name on the table? That is seriously creepy and possessive."

"Luckily I don't care about your opinion, now would you be so kind to move yourself out of my seat. You too Ashford." I didn't bother crossing my arms as an act of defiance.

Unfortunately Rose seemed to be more defiant than I had pegged her to be. "You know writing your name on things doesn't actually make them yours, right?"

"You know you're insufferable, right?" I asked, not bothering to answer her question.

"Mason," Rose sighed with a sweet voice. "This guy just doesn't get it, does he?"

Mason didn't say anything, he just looked me in the eyes and I could see his defiance wavering a bit. He didn't really care about the seat enough to have a full blown argument over it with me. He was a Dhampir and could most likely, scratch that, he would absolutely destroy me in a physical fight, but luckily I had more to me than just charm and good looks. I could manipulate the element of fire. And Mason knew that. I don't think he thought I would actually try to set him on fire or anything, and let's just go with that assumption because it comforts me, but I think he thought I was a bit out of it, you know a whacko. Perhaps that's why he didn't seem so eager to agitate me too much. Also I was not the best judge of personalities, but for some reason I didn't see Mason Ashford as the taunting type, he was straight forward and kind.

"Maybe we should retreat Hathaway," Mason suggested.

"I," Rose gasped, "Well I never would have thought you'd be such a wimp Mase. Can't even handle a snobby Moroi who thinks he owns this desk." She slapped her hand down on the hard surface of the desk to make her point.

"You know nothing about me," I snapped, raising my voice just a bit too much to stay under the radar. People started to look at us shooting curious glances towards the back of the class.

"I know plenty and let me say that I'm not impressed," she said and crossed her arms. "I know you're a certified lunatic, I heard you tried to set someone on fire."

"Well…" Mason started. "I'm gonna change seats so, Rose you can come with me or stay here."  
I watched as Mason got up and made his way to the table on the other side of the room. I expected the girl to do the same, but she just sat there with that unnerving smile taking over her features.

"Well, it looks like you and I, Mr. Ozera, are going to enjoy each other's company for the class." She smiled at me, but the smile wasn't completely friendly. It was more of a taunting smirk to be honest. I didn't care though, I had gotten what I'd wanted; a desk at the back of the room. The rest was just unfortunate luck. I sat down and tried to ignore the girl fiercely tapping the leg of the table with her shoes.

Half way through the class I was completely absorbed in the assignment at hand. We had to analyze a news article and turn it into a fictional story. Mine was about some old supermarket in downtown Chicago. I guess it wasn't the most invigorating article, but as I let my imagination free I found myself writing about talking candy bars. Just as I was getting to the best part of the story –the Kit Kats deciding to attack the Hershey's bars- the girl next to me started chewing on her pencil. I tried to ignore it and just continue on the candy bar massacre, but the sound of pencil being gnawed at distracted me from the upcoming sweets revolution at a supermarket in downtown Chicago.

"Could you please stop that," I said, not trying to be polite anymore.

"Stop what?" She asked me, seeming honestly confused.

"Chewing on your pencil like some kind of animal," I answered.

The Dhampir simply crinkled her straight nose and rolled her dark eyes. "Luckily I don't care about your opinion," she said and plastered her trademark smile across her full lips.

"Creative, using my own words against me," I said trying out a smile of my own, since arguing with her didn't seem to get me anywhere.

"Well, I do pride myself on coming up with good comebacks," she said and put the pencil down.

"It's not really your comeback if you've just copied it from someone else," I remarked.

"Well next time I use it I'll be sure to use quotation marks," she said and picked up her pencil again. My eyes shifted to her empty sheet of paper. She caught me looking and rolled her eyes again. I was beginning to think that maybe it was a defensive habit of hers.

"Almost an hour up and I've got nothing," she said, the sarcasm and the edge to her voice that I'd come to expect from her were gone for a moment. "I'm not really good at this writing thing. I mean, what am I supposed to write about a supermarket in Chicago?"

"You got the same article as me?" I asked.

"If yours is about a supermarket called Maximart in Chicago owned by a Chinese dude then yes, it's the same article." She dropped her pencil again. I don't know if it was a Dhampir thing or something, but she didn't seem able to stay still for very long.

"What did you write about?" she asked me, leaning in to look at my paper. I instantly turned rigid. I wasn't used to closeness. She was apparently not aware of the concept of private space. She was now completely leaning to my side of the table, taking up most of the space. She held my story in her calloused, but yet manicured fingers and seemed completely drowned in the words. I watched her face; she had a very expression full face. Her eyebrows creased when she couldn't decipher my handwriting and the corners of her lips turned upwards as a Kit-Kat severed a Hershey's bar with a plastic fork.

"This is pretty good," She said as she finished reading it. She placed the paper back on the desk and leaned back on her chair. "If you want my opinion, I'd say that the Kit-Kats are bound to win."

"Why the Kit-Kats?" I asked, curious to find out what her logic was or if there actually was logic to her assumption.

"Well, they've got the cookie in the middle to toughen them. They're pretty hard core," she said, letting out a little laugh.

"If you say so," I sighed not really knowing what to feel. This girl was pretty damn defensive, but could relax in the blink of an eye. What was I supposed to think of her?

"I do, believe me. I'm a Dhampir, I know this stuff." She said it with such confidence that I actually believed her even though I didn't even know who she was.

"So your name is Rose?"

"Yeah, Rose Hathaway," she said, "and you're Christian Ozera?"

"The one and only," I said looking at her. She was studying me with her eyes, picked up her pencil and bit it. I tried not to sigh out loud.

"You know, I'm trying to figure you out," She said.

"Well I'm like an open book so it shouldn't be that hard," I said.

"I assume you know about the stuff they say about you," she stated.

I ignored her assumption. "What? That I'm Godly and handsome?"

"That's not exactly what I've been hearing," she said, although I could see her hold back a smile. "Seriously though, is it true?"

"Is what true?" I said, feeling my defensive walls begin to form around me.

"Well, I can tell you're not…Strigoi, but…" She left the sentence hanging in the air. It was like she suddenly realized that what she was asking was absolutely unacceptable. "I'm sorry, you don't have to say anything," she said quietly.

The bell rang and I gathered my things as quickly as I could. "Damn sure I don't," I snapped at her as I walked past her to the corridor.

**AN: Sooo...? Tell me what you think? As always, reviews make me as happy as writing about Kit-Kats and Hersheys makes Christian happy...It basically means I'd be really, really, really happy to get a reaview! Also I'd like to thank my amazing Beta- Chipmunkgirl101, because she puts up with my comma addiction and me constantly asking for my chapter. So thank you.**

**LOVE ALWAYS, ALEXANDRA**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Hi Guys! I'm sorry this chapter took a little longer than usual, but it's here now and that's what's important, right? I hope you like it, enjoy!**

**Oh, and thanks to my awesome BETA!**

Little lies

Chapter 3.

_All Characters belong to Richelle Mead; I own nothing except my imagination_

Rose. Weren't roses supposed to be sweet and lovely and whatnot?

After English class I decided to ditch the rest of my classes. I swiftly walked through the maze of corridors that formed the main building. I crossed the courtyard and made my way to the chapel. It wasn't that I was religious or anything; I just liked the emptiness of the chapel. There was a certain sensation of peacefulness that filled me whenever I walked through the heavy mahogany doors and stepped into the dimmed space. I walked up the stairs to the attic. There was no light streaming in through the colorful glass window, but I could see a warm glow, perhaps from a candle, inviting me in.

The familiar creaking of the old floorboards made me feel at home. I dropped my bag on the floor and the warm hue that had illuminated the room disappeared. I instantly tried to get my eyes used to the sudden darkness. I snapped my fingers together and willed a small flame to appear above my palm. The flame was warm and it cast light, but it didn't burn me. I looked around the room. The piles of boxes and old books cast dark shadows across the floor and walls; they seemed to dance around as I walked across the room to the window, holding the flame high in front of me.

"Christian?" I heard a familiar voice ask.

I quickly turned around and saw Vasilisa Dragomir sitting on a box in the corner. She sounded like she had a flu, except that Moroi didn't get sick.

"Vasilisa, what are you doing here?" I asked, not knowing what to say.

"I could ask you the same," she replied and gave me a meek smile.

I sat down in front of her on the floor. Even in the fire light I could see that her nose looked red and her eyes a bit swollen. It looked like she had been crying. I didn't know what to do with crying girls. I was supposed to try and comfort them, right?

"I'm skipping class," I said and grinned at her. She let out a laugh and wiped her sleeve across her eyes. She was wearing a blue sweater under her school uniform. I could see something dark staining the sleeve, but she quickly tucked her hands neatly on her lap.

"So honest," she sighed. "I guess there's no use lying; I'm skipping class as well."

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I just don't see you as the kind of girl who skips classes. Honestly, if you enjoy Slavic art you should be able to make it through any class they put you in."

"Just because I can make it through the class doesn't mean I want to," she said and looked down at her hands. She rubbed the together.

"Are you cold?" I asked.

"No, not really," she said.

I lit the candle that was on a box next to her and willed the flame of my creation to fade away.

"You're a fire user then," she stated. "I guess that makes sense."

"How on earth does that make any sense?" I asked feeling a bit amused.

"It fits your personality," she said and flipped her hair back.

"I'll take that as a compliment," I said and shook my head.

We sat there in silence for a while. Her green eyes stuck out in the darkish room like a cat's would. They were the Dragomir trade mark. My eyes kept wondering back to them and the clear tear stains on her cheeks. I wanted to know what had made her cry. I mean, yes, she had a lot of reasons to cry, that I'll admit, but she to me she hadn't seemed like the kind of girl who cried alone in the dark.

"This is a nice and quiet place," she said and turned to look at the tall glass mosaic window.

"I know, this is _my_ nice and quiet place," I said, laughing a bit. I didn't want her thinking she wasn't wanted here.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude. This just seemed like a good place to come and think." She dropped herself of the box and sat on the floor. "My parents used to take me to church; I always loved to explore them. The attics usually have interesting books and stuff, so I thought I'd come and see if I could find any here."

"Well there are enough books here to…well, I don't exactly know what you could do with these books but, the point is that there are a hell of a lot of them here."

"Yeah, I noticed."

"So Vasilisa," I began.

"Please, call me Lissa," she corrected me before I could continue.

"Alright, Lissa, I was just thinking, now that we are here we might as well do something productive," I said.

"What exactly would you consider productive?" She asked me with a shy smile taking over her features.

"Well…" I sighed. "I need to come up with a topic for my Slavic art project by tomorrow. Since you're the expert I was thinking you could help me."

"Help you or come up with the topic and the write your essay?"

"Only help me!" I exclaimed. "God, what do you take me for?" I asked with a fake shocked look on my face. "Do you think I'm some kind of reckless rebel who skips classes and gets sent to headmistress Kirova's office at least once a week?"

She laughed. She really laughed and it sounded delightful. She smiled at me. "Mr. Ozera, now I would never ever suggest that!" She exclaimed, sounding taken aback. Of course her face told me she was just playing along.

"Very well then, now that that's settled, how bout we talk some Slavic art?"

"I would love to," she said and leaned in to grab her bag. "I actually made some notes last night, since I did already promise to help you."

I stared at her in disbelief for a while. "You actually made notes last night, for my essay?"

"Well yeah, I was reading and I came across this interesting chapter about Slavic artists and their art that was influenced by folklore and things like that. I thought you might be interested in that kind of thing."

"What kind of books do you read?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.

"I like reading well…school books."

I gave her a surprised look. She looked away and blushed. "I know, it's weird, I just don't understand why people would read fiction when they could read about real things."

"That's ridiculous," I said, sounding a bit too defensive to my own liking. "The whole point of reading fiction is to escape into a different world. To enter someone else's mind. It's fascinating."

"Well, I think learning is fascinating. And besides, I've read a few fictional books, I just didn't enjoy them," Lissa said and bit her lip.

"Well you can't judge an entire genre based on a few books!" I exclaimed. She was really getting me worked up. What was it with people today?

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you," she said and wore an apologetic look.

I took a deep breath and let out a heavy sigh. "I just… I don't know, let's not talk about it. I want to hear more about the folklore thing," I said trying to change the subject. We were dancing on a very fine line between casual conversation and me pouring my heart out to a girl I'd just me yesterday.

"Somehow I find that hard to believe, but if you insist." She pulled out a thick book from her bag and opened it up from a page she seemed to have had memorized beforehand.

I looked at the book and swallowed loudly and forced a smile. "I insist."

As Lissa and I walked across the courtyard to the cafeteria, I could feel people staring at us.

"They've been doing that even since we got back," Lissa said and shook her head.

"They've been doing that ever since I came to this school," I said.

"You win," she said and gave me a warm smile.

"Well, I wouldn't say so. You actually managed to ditch this place. That's pretty impressive."

"I can't take credit for that," she said and smiled, like she remembered a fond memory. "I couldn't have done it without Rose."

The name hit me like a bullet; Small but painful. I remembered why I had skipped my classes in the first place.

"Did I say something wrong?" Lissa asked, looking worried.

"Um…well no, not really," I said. "This Rose, she didn't happen to have English today?"

"Yes, she did," Lissa said and frowned. "It worries me that you know that."

"How so?"

"Well, I love Rose, but she tends to make her opinions very clear and she is very…blunt. That doesn't always go down well with people." She laughed nervously and raked her hand through her long light hair.

"Oh I think we're talking about the same Rose," I said rolling my eyes dramatically.

"Oh no," Lissa sighed. "What did she do? It's only our second day here."

Earlier I had been so mad at Rose for asking stupid questions, but as I saw Lissa worry about the dark eyed Dhampir, I felt my rage slowly dissipate. "Don't worry, its fine."

"Are you sure?" Lissa asked her green eyes filled with actual concern.

"To be honest I was angry at her, but she did give me some insider's tips on Hershey's and Kit-Kats so I guess I could let her nosy nature go."

Lissa looked at me curiously and the waved the subject away. "That sure sounds like Rose. But honestly you shouldn't take anything she says personally. She doesn't really have a filter between her brain and her mouth. She just says what she thinks."

"So do I, usually," I said.

"Do you want to get some dinner with me?" Lissa asked. She looked friendly and open, but Mark's words floated through my head and reminded me that even though Lissa seemed to be open minded and accepting the other royals most likely wouldn't be so friendly.

"I…You know I already have some plans for dinner." I looked down at the grass that was a bit frozen and crunched under out steps.

"Oh," she said actually sounding disappointed. "Perhaps another time?"

"Yeah, definitely," I said. "I…have to go."

"Alright," Lissa said a small smile playing on her lips.

I walked away, not looking back. I was afraid I might change my mind and accept her dinner invitation out of sheer curiosity. Or was it out of curiosity? It had been a long time since I had actually enjoyed spending time with someone other than Sarah and Mark that I felt like every breath I took around Vasilisa Dragomir was magical. I didn't feel like I was constantly gasping for air, but just suffocating. I didn't have to struggle to feel like I belonged. I just was, and that scared me. I didn't generally like people, minus the few exceptions. I was reserved for a reason. If you didn't let people in, they couldn't break you. I didn't need someone to break me again.

I passed by my room and left my bag there. After that I made my way to the cafeteria. I waited in to get to the feeders. The line seemed to be moving painfully slow, but at last I was beckoned to a room with a feeder in it. She was a middle aged woman named May. I knew all the feeders by name. They were giving me their blood, the least I could do was to remember their name.

"Hey, May," I said cheerfully. She was seated in a soft armchair. She looked beyond happy. I reckoned she had been here for a while. The endorphins induced by all the Moroi bites seemed to be working their magic.

"Christian," she said and gave me a lazy smile. I really did like May. She was one of the clear headed feeders. I didn't exactly know how she had ended up here, except that it had been her own choice, but I did know that she came from New York and she in her clearer moments she told me about her life there. I knew bits and pieces. I was happy with anything she wanted to share with me. Today unfortunately didn't seem to be one of her clear days. She beckoned me to her and gave me a pleading look. "Are you hungry?"

"Yes, I haven't had blood in two days," I said.

This seemed to make her insanely happy. She smiled brightly and traced her index finger along her neck. "Would you, please?"

I shook my head and took her hand. I brushed my thumb across her wrist. I felt her veins pulsating with blood under her fair skin. I brought her wrist to my mouth and bit into it. The rush of blood instantly brought my body alive. There was a difference between food and blood. Food gave you energy and blood kept you alive. As I released May's hand I saw her face, it was a poster of bliss. I neatly placed her hand back on her lap and thanked her. I walked out of the room leaving her to her world of nothingness.

After the blood I didn't bother with actual food. I slipped into my room and started working on my Slavic art essay. Maybe if I had already started it Mrs. Reed would be keener to let me go with my topic. The book Lissa had lent me went a long way. I didn't even have to use Wikipedia. The way she had explained things had actually made me interested in the subject. I didn't know how she did it, but she had actually made me not hate Slavic art, which in my opinion was a miracle. After I figured I'd done enough work for one night I started going through the pages of Lissa's book. To my shock some of the things in it were actually pretty interesting. I looked through paintings and read some interesting facts. Who knew, maybe I'd need interesting facts about Slavic art one day.

I once again ended up falling asleep with a book in my bed. It was becoming a habit I should probably get rid of.

**AN: So what do you think? I really enjoy writing Lissa and Christian together. They're just too adorable. If you would take the time to leave a review, I would very much apprechiate it! Can't wait to hear what you think!**

**Love Always, Alexandra**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Hey guys! I'm so sorry this chapter is so late... I don't even really have a regular update chedule and still I feel like it's late. So sorry. Anyways, it's here now and I hope you enjoy it!**

Little lies

All characters belong to Richelle Mead, I only own my imagination.

Chapter 4.

Lissa's point of view

I walked through the cafeteria. My feet felt heavy and I dragged them along. I didn't feel like eating with my friends. Maybe it sounded like the biggest cliché in the world, but I felt like they didn't really understand me. Honestly I didn't quite understand why they were so keen to have me back in their group. I had been gone for what seemed like centuries, and my time away had changed me. I wasn't the same girl anymore. Couldn't they see that? People changed but I was expected to act the same as always. I was expected to be the rich party girl, Lissa Dragomir, but I couldn't play that role anymore. I just wanted to keep my head down and lay low. I just wanted to survive high school. If anyone ever survived high school that is.

"Your highness." I heard a sarcastic but familiar voice chime behind my shoulder.

I turned around to see Rose Hathway, my best friend, guardian (or hopefully guardian to be) and ally wearing a smug smile.

"Yes," I said, my voice instantly pitched higher. She made me happy in a way that always seemed to work. It wasn't something that took effort or something we had to push for. We just sort of clicked.

"You off to dinner with the vultures?" Rose asked, rolling her eyes and making a face towards a group of royals waving at me. Her skin was paler than usual and she was sweating. She was wearing black training leggings and a grey tank top. It wasn't really her style, but it was necessary for her training here at the academy.

I sighed. "I suppose I have to have dinner with them, you know keep up the appearances." I twirled some of my hair between my fingers.

"Hey don't act like it's all that miserable," Rose said raising her hands up as a defensive move. "I'm lucky I even get to eat. Honestly that Belikov guy is a whack job. Every muscle in my body is aching and I feel like shit all the time. He has me working like I'm supposed to take down a whole army of Strigoi all on my own."

"Maybe that's the plan," I said, grinning. "You're like their superman, their wild card. Maybe it's all part of a bigger plan." I made a surprised gasp and let out a giggle.

"A conspiracy theory…" Rose mumbled. She looked at me with her sharp dark eyes. "I like that," she said and returned my grin. "Now, you're coming with me princess. We need some food and preferably a lot of it." She gently placed her hand to the small of my back and guided me towards the cafeteria line.

"So how was your day?" Rose asked me as she piled food on to her plate; mashed potatoes, peas, gravy and of course meatloaf. I picked up a chicken salad and a piece of bread.

"You know…" I said pretending to read the ingredients of the salad dressing. Who knew ranch dressing was so complicated.

"No, I'm pretty sure I don't know. That's why I'm asking in the first place." Rose walked us to a table full of her friends. They were all Dhampirs, young and fit with piles of food that almost out shined Rose's.

"Hey," Rose cleared her throat. "Lissa's gonna eat with us today, so try to behave."

Mason Ashford tapped the seat next to him. "Have a seat and join the crazy train."

I let out a laugh and sat down. It was rather easy to talk to Rose and her friends; they seemed so outgoing and wild. They explained stories with wide hand gestures and loud voices. It was nice. I blended into the crowd. Most of all they didn't act like they owned the place. They were down to earth. And if they didn't like me, they certainly didn't show it.

"So Liss, seriously though, what'd you do to today?" Rose stuffed mashed potatoes into her mouth.

"I had classes; math, Latin, physics and English."

"That's only four classes," Rose pointed out, raising four of her fingers to mark each class.

"Yeah, I kinda skipped Social studies," I mumbled, hoping to make the topic very bland and boring.

"_You _skipped class." Rose looked like she was about to choke on her food.

"It's not that scandalous," I protested.

"You never once skipped a class when we were out in the real world. You even dragged my sorry ass to every morning class we had. So tell me, what gives?"

"I just didn't feel like going to class, that's all." I played with my hair again. I decided to pick on my salad. I ate a piece of tomato and chewed on it thoughtfully.

"Yeah…okay. I'm stuck with Mr. Whack job Belikov and you get to skip class. Fair play." Rose rolled her eyes and took a sip of her water bottle.

"It couldn't have been too much fun for her either," Mason interrupted. "I saw her walking out of the chapel with Christian Ozera."

Rose dropped her fork on the plate. "Why are you hanging out with Crazy Ozera?" She looked almost offended. "Actually scratch that, why are you hanging with Crazy Ozera in the chapel?"

"He's not crazy," I said defensively. "He's actually been very nice to me." Perhaps that wasn't entirely true, he had been friendly and all, but that could just be because he needed my help on a project. I made it sound like he was ready to take a bullet for me. Still I felt the need to stand up on his behalf. It wasn't really fair what people said about him. I knew people said things about me too. Wild theories involving my escape circulated around the academy. And if I were in this situation I would hope that he would stand up for me.

"Oh he's cray cray alright," Rose said. "I had English with him today and he totally snapped at me."

"Yeah 'cause you totally didn't do anything to agitate him," Mason said and laughed to himself.

"What did she do," I asked suddenly worried. The conversation I'd had with Christian earlier came rushing to my head.

"She you know…asked him about his parents," Mason stated in an oddly calm blur.

I took in a sharp breath. "Rose…" I shook my head. I could feel a blush of embarrassment rise to my cheeks. It wasn't a secret what his parents had done, but I could only imagine the impact it had on the rest of his family. They were shamed, all their power stripped away. Their royal status was now merely a relic. It was nothing like it had once been. In my opinion he was a victim of his parent's actions, but no one else seemed to see it that way.

"What!" She exclaimed and shrugged her shoulders. "It's not like it's a secret."  
"That's not the point," I said and put down my fork.

"What is the point then?"

"The point is," I said looking her dead in the eyes. "You can't just ask people about things that are probably painful and hard to talk about." I gave her a meaningful look. I saw her face change into a reflection of concern. I wasn't really sure what the concern was about. I saw her understand. And then sadly, I saw her shake it away.

"He's still creepy though," Rose said and cleaned off her plate.

"You're impossible," I sighed.

"Hell yeah, but that's why you love me," Rose said, a wide grin spreading across her features.

"As I said, you are impossible." I shook my head and wiped my mouth.

Her face grew serious and she placed her hand firmly on the table. "Look Lissa, I'm not stupid. I know what you're saying, _you shouldn't judge people by rumors and that blah, blah, blah_, but I thought the plan was to lay low and try not to draw any attention to us. Hanging out with Crazy…"

I gave her a sharp look.

"…With Christian Ozera," she said emphasizing his name. "Is not laying low. It's like a big red sign that screams _'look at me, look at me'_"

"No one cares about who I hang out with," I said. "I'm not that interesting."

"Oh I beg to differ, you're the most interesting thing since Jesse Zeklos' girl drama, and let me tell you that's some interesting shit. I can't believe I'm actually saying this, but you have to behave. We both have to behave." Rose looked like she had a hard time saying those words. Behaving…it wasn't really her way of life.

"Can I quote that?" I asked, laughing nervously.

"Oh, God no. Don't tell anyone I said that." She sighed. "But I mean it you can't hang out with Ozera anymore. At least until things calm down."

I mulled over the thought. The mere thought of giving up my time with Christian made me sad. I'd known him for two days, but he was like a breath of fresh air in the middle of the desert. And honestly, the thought of not spending time with him, because it would be bad for my reputation repulsed me. That wasn't who I was anymore. I felt like if I listened to Rose's advice I'd chip off an important piece of me. I knew Rose only meant good, she always did. And I knew I should probably listen to her and just leave Christian to survive alone, but I couldn't bear to think of him screwing up that Slavic art essay especially now that I'd seemed to get him interested.

"Liss?" Rose still had that concerned look on her face.

"Alright, I'll stay away from Christian."

"Good," Rose stated with a simple ease to her words. She picked up her plate and beckoned me to follow suit. "Now let's see if we can manage to escape for a while, I need a break from Belikov."

"He can't be that bad, can he?" I'd only actually met him when he had brought us back to St. Vladimir's. He'd seemed perfectly nice, except for the part of him dragging us back here, but I guess all guardians were nice to Moroi.

"Oh believe me, if he didn't look so good I'd like to break his nose." Rose balled her fists.

"Could you actually break his nose? I mean I'm not trying to put you down or anything, but I saw you try to attack him in that ally and he threw you around like you were a stuffed animal." I tried not to laugh at the thought.

"I totally could, it would just be a waste to ruin such a pretty face." Rose grinned at me and I laughed.

"Well at least he looks good. You could be stuck with some middle aged lady who would make you file documents all day. You know some Dhampirs do work with paper work," I pointed out.

"Filing…" Rose shivered. "Good point."

XXX

My first class of the day was Slavic Art. Usually I would never dread that very class, but today my heart could seem to find a steady rhythm and my palms kept getting sweatier by the minute. I had to face Christian. I don't think I could do this. If only he were horrible and obnoxious, this would be so much easier. I leaned against the wall of the corridor. The cold bricks dug into my back. That's when I saw him. He was wearing a dark jacket and dark jeans. His eyes pierced the room and looked straight at me. He was smiling and made his way to me. He stopped in front of me and picked up a folder from his bag. He said something that I couldn't focus on. I was too busy looking at every angle of his face. I tried to memorize how he looked now; happy and excited. I swallowed loudly.

"Lissa?" He asked, his eyebrows arching in a curious manner. "Did you hear what I just said?"

"Um, no," I confessed.

"I started the essay; I think the beginning is really good. I started by categorizing the different artist and writing down a little of their background and then I…" He continued to speak so eagerly. Well I'll be damned, Christian Ozera, the self claimed Slavic art hater was actually excited about Slavic art. How was I supposed to not like him? He waved the paper in front of my face, dragging me out of my thoughts.

"Lissa, are you alright? You seem really distracted." Christian's eyes softened a bit, like ice slowly melting.

"I-I don't know." Was all I managed to mumble before the bell rang and people started to shuffle into class. I swiftly made my way to our desk at the back of the class. Christian followed me with a mildly annoyed look on his face. He sat down next to me in one quick movement and placed his notebook on the desk.

"What's wrong," he asked. His voice was friendly enough, but I could detect hint of something odd in the way he dragged out his words.

"Nothing is wrong; I'm just not in the mood to talk." I took out my pencil as Mrs. Reed started the class. Christian didn't say anything. He just sat next to me in complete silence. The clock ticked painfully slow. I didn't pay attention to anything Mrs. Reed was talking about. Sometimes out of the corner of my eye I would recognize a piece of art, but that's as far as my contribution to this class went today. I felt stiff, I sat there on my chair like I was paralyzed. I wanted, no,I needed to explain to Christian why I was acting this distant. He didn't deserve this. I wanted to be honest, but my lips seemed to be sealed with glue. Talking suddenly became a daunting obstacle.

Finally the class ended. I stayed back to collect my things. I watched Christian get up without a word and walk to Mrs. Reed's desk. He handed her his folder. I felt a bit bad for eavesdropping, but I did it anyway. I listened in on their conversation.

"I came up with a subject for my essay. I already started the essay as well," Christian calmly stated.

Mrs. Reed picked up the folder and slowly went through the pages. "This looks impressive Mr. Ozera. I have to ask, did you do this all by yourself?"

"Of course I did, you would be surprised by what I can do when given a bit of inspiration." I didn't mind him taking credit for the essay, he had done all the work, I had only given him the subject. Still I felt a pang of jealousy hit me when he didn't mention I was helping him with his project.

"Well, keep up the good work and you might actually pass this class," Mrs. Reed said. She almost smiled. Almost.

Christian turned around to leave. He looked a bit surprised to still see me there. I didn't actually know why I had stayed back. This went against Rose's advice, but I couldn't just leave without explaining myself to him. It was silly really, what would I say 'I'm sorry we can't be friends because your social status just doesn't match mine'?

We walked out of the class together. "Do you feel like talking now?" Christian asked with a leveled voice.

"Yes," I said. I felt sick to my stomach. I couldn't believe I was doing this.

"Are you ready to tell me what's wrong?" He asked, stopping in the middle of the hallway.

"We can't do this." I just spit it out. I didn't even think about what I was saying. As soon as the words were out of my mouth I regretted them.

"Exactly what are you talking about?" Christian asked. He sounded very reserved. I felt my heart sink. He knew. He knew what I was about to say. I saw it in those ice cold eyes of his. I saw it in the sarcastic smile that was playing on his lips. He knew.

"We can't be friends," I said. I lifted my chin up and avoided his eyes. I was afraid if I looked in them I'd take back everything.

"Who said we were friends," Christian snapped. "You're just helping me with my project." His mouth twitched into a tight line and his eyes bore a whole in my soul. It was very uncomfortable. It was like he could see right through me. Read me like one of his books, escape into my mind.

"Oh, I just thought…"

"Right, well you thought wrong," Christian said. His words were cold and emotionless. I didn't like it. They didn't suit him at all.

I took a deep breath, composing myself. "Alright, then there is nothing to talk about."

"Yep, nothing at all," Christian confirmed. "Thank you for your help with my project Vasilisa." He turned around in one swift spin of his heels and stalked away.

I was left standing there in complete shock. I just stared at his furthering form in a paralyzed state. His voice rang through my head. _Vasilisa. It was so cold._ I took a tentative step. My world was still firmly around me. I wasn't crumbling. Everything was still here. If everything was still here, then why did I feel like I was suffocating?

**AN: So here we go. Tell me what you thought of this chapter? Tell me what you think about the way Lissa is acting and how Christian responds to it. Do you like it, do you hate it? Also if you would like to see characters from VA that are currently not in this story make an appearance in this story, just let me know!**

**Well, you know what to do to make me happy :D**

**Love Always, Alexandra!**


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